


Terms of Surrender

by Dira Sudis (dsudis)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Consensual Violence, Established Relationship, Impact Play, M/M, Masochism, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The body he'd been given felt like a layer of uniform he couldn't take off. People looking at it were just admiring perfect design, the same as anybody whose eye was drawn by the stars and stripes.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms of Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to astolat and Rubynye for beta!

Steve kept his eyes on the opposite wall while Sam moved around behind him. Steve was on his knees, legs spread, and he was conscious of every inch of his exposed skin, from his toes to the tips of his ears, which he could feel turning redder with every strap Sam fastened in place.

Steve hadn't ever been shy about being naked in front of people. Before the serum, there had been a measure of defiance in it-- _yeah, look, this is me, so what_. After, it wasn't so much that he knew he looked good as he never felt like he was really all the way undressed. The body he'd been given felt like a layer of uniform he couldn't take off. People looking at it were just admiring perfect design, the same as anybody whose eye was drawn by the stars and stripes. 

Being naked with Sam, making love, that made him feel like it mattered when he got down to bare skin. But he only felt really exposed like this, on his knees, when he wasn't just letting Sam see his body but the thing he really wanted to do with it. The thing he really wanted _Sam_ to do with him, because the whole point of this was that Steve couldn't do much of anything once they got started.

"How's that?" Sam asked, and Steve grabbed the bar above his head and tried pulling himself up against the straps that held him to the floor at knee and ankle. They were tight; he could lift his ankles about half an inch, but his knees didn't budge. He could break the leather if he had to, but it would hold him against anything other than a real effort.

Steve nodded, and he looked up to watch as Sam took Steve's left wrist in his hands to fasten it to the bar. Sam glanced down, meeting Steve's eyes. His hands kept working; it was a practiced set of motions by now. 

Sam smiled, and Steve smiled back irresistibly, because Sam still didn't look put-upon, and had never once looked disgusted. He didn't get exactly what Steve got out of this, or even exactly the opposite of what Steve got, but he wasn't just suffering through Steve's weird requests, either. That made it easier--made it possible at all--for Steve to keep asking for this, even when he wasn't desperate for it. Even when it was just something he wanted.

Sam turned his gaze to Steve's right hand, catching the strap and wrapping it around his wrist. Then he bent and kissed Steve on the mouth, long and lingering and ending in a little scrape of teeth over Steve's lower lip that made him shiver. 

"Test those?" Sam said softly, like it was a perfectly normal thing to say with a kiss. He'd always done that, though--always treated this like it was just another way of making love. Steve supposed he was right: love hurt sometimes. It was going to hurt tonight, and every inch of Steve's skin felt like unpainted canvas, just crying out to be marked.

Steve put his weight into the straps holding his wrists. There was a little slack. The bar holding his wrists didn't force him to stretch at absolutely full extension, so he could swing a little from the hips. It made the straps on his wrists and knees bite into his skin, but he could move.

"Is this enough, or do you want it tighter?" Sam's voice was warm, and the question was familiar. Steve knew the set of options he was being offered even before Sam reminded him. "If you move after we start, I'm going to hit you."

If Steve let Sam immobilize him completely, that meant Sam was entirely in control; Steve wouldn't be able to make Sam punish him for anything.

Steve wiggled his hips side-to-side, barely an inch of movement. That didn't make the straps bite quite as badly, but it was also an unmistakable gesture of defiance. He wasn't ready to go down easy tonight.

Sam raised his eyebrows slightly, though he couldn't possibly be surprised. His smile widened as he said, "If that's how you want it, man."

The conversation was mostly a formality; Steve was rarely ready to give in at the start. Now he glanced deliberately at the clock just visible to his left. They were about ten seconds away from official start time, long enough for Steve to reply and then shut up if he wanted to start off doing what he was told. He waited seven seconds, watching Sam's face, knowing that Sam knew exactly what time it was, and then rocked backward and forward again as he said, "You know exactly how I want it, I don't know how many times I have to tell you...."

He watched Sam's hand go back to the table behind him and come up with the crop. Steve grinned and rocked again, pointedly, right into the first blow, a hard snap at the outside of his left thigh. The sharp thrill of pain was exactly enough to say _you're on_. 

Steve paused enough to make it absolutely clear that he wasn't flinching, and then he wiggled again, earning himself another snap exactly like the first on the opposite side. The pain was bright and sharp, landing so neatly on one spot, precise as a needle. He'd already thought he was keyed up, knowing this was coming, but the rush of it always took him a little bit by surprise when the pain started.

He flexed his shoulders, turning his elbows out at the same time. Sam gave him another snap, at the outside of the hip. Steve arched shamelessly as the pain thrilled through him, drawing another on the opposite side. He wiggled again, side to side, and kept moving through a metronome-steady series of blows, down the outsides of his legs, up his ribs. When he stopped, he got one last snap, just under his left arm, and then Sam stopped, too.

Steve stayed carefully, exactly still as he took a couple of deep breaths, feeling the lines of pain studded down each side of his body. He didn't have to push the sensation away; there was nothing here to power through it to. He could let himself feel, let the pain stitch him into this body, cutting into the armor of it and letting him know he was defenseless now. 

He opened his eyes and looked up, meeting Sam's warm, patient gaze. Steve didn't need any defense against him, but that still didn't mean he wouldn't struggle.

Steve bared his teeth in something like a smile. He was warmed up, now. They both were, and it was time to really play. He curled his toes under and threw himself forward against his bonds; his weight hit his wrists and knees only a bare instant ahead of the answering snap of the crop, expertly landed at the top of his thigh, just below the crease of his groin. The pain was a spark that went straight to his cock, and he chased it, swaying again to earn another snap--on his chest this time, just below one nipple, because Sam wouldn't give him a nice neat pattern to predict now that they were really playing.

Steve went on practicing his narrow repertoire of available moves, only sparingly testing his bonds--he didn't want to break one, not now. Sam kept perfect count, hitting faster when Steve's inciting movements were right on top of each other, slower when Steve made each motion distinct. Sam moved around him, blanketing Steve's body in stinging impacts from his shoulders to his heels. The only targets he left alone were Steve's steadily hardening cock and his balls, drawing tighter between his thighs with every blow.

Steve's ass got special attention, and the stinging burn of the strikes Sam landed there wrung a completely involuntary noise from Steve's throat. He stopped when he heard it, and Sam stopped too, giving Steve a chance to catch his breath. _Involuntary_ noises weren't punished, but--

Steve turned his head, tilting it back so he could look up at Sam. Looking was also not a punishable movement. Steve was riding high on the perfect heat of the pain, and he grinned as he said, "You getting tired?"

Backtalk was definitely punishable, good for a fast flurry of blows that would disregard anything else he did or didn't do for a little while. Steve closed his eyes and let his arms hang from his wrists as they rained down, sharp and stinging and quick enough to feel like one continuous stream of pain.

He started moving again as soon as Sam's tempo slowed, indicating that that particular punishment was finished. Every shift of weight earned him another snap, climbing the insides of his thighs, marking the backs of his arms. Sam even gave him one, mostly-pulled, stinging sweetly across the ball of his foot. Just the promise of what might follow that was enough to make Steve moan again.

Sam started to lag his blows a little after that, making Steve move more obviously to earn each one. He was starting to feel the effort of struggling in his thighs and arms, a dull warm counterpoint to the sharp heat of impact. Steve paused to breathe, aware that Sam had slowed him down to a stop. He worked his wrist in tiny moves against the strap binding it, wondering if he had the leverage to break it. Sam wouldn't count a motion as small as that flexing, not at this stage.

Sam sighed, and Steve tipped his head back but didn't open his eyes, even when the end of the crop touched his aching cheek, sliding down his jaw, down his throat, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck, his nipples drawing tight, his cock aching for that teasing gentle touch.

"I just don't think I'm getting through to you, man," Sam said. 

That was a cue. Steve could say _sorry_ and Sam wouldn't move on to the next thing just yet.

Steve opened his eyes and let his mouth fall open too, stretching the shape of the grin that he realized he'd been holding so long his face hurt. 

"I'm sure you're doing your best," Steve said.

"Are you," Sam said, and he turned his back, dropping the crop on the table. Steve's whole body twitched at the sound of it slapping down, and he didn't breathe until he saw what Sam picked up, and then he bit down hard on his lower lip. The dig of his teeth barely registered as pain compared to the pattern of impacts all over his body, and even that was going to be nothing compared to the cane that was dangling ever so lightly from Sam's fingers when he turned around again.

Steve took a deep breath, eyes flicking up to meet Sam's gaze and then down to the cane again. Sam repeated the same touch, dragging the tip lightly down Steve's cheek. Steve made himself wait as long as he could, dragging out the anticipation as he let the first set of marks go dull on his skin. When he couldn't bear it anymore he arched toward Sam, begging for more.

Sam gave it to him. The sound of the cane hitting his skin was echoed by the sound of Steve's breath going out of him, and Sam laid the first stinging stripe at the outside of his hip, where the first snap of the crop had already begun to fade. The initial impact bloomed into fire as the welt rose, and Steve groaned and twisted the few degrees he could to invite another and another. 

The rhythm was slower now as Sam let him savor the pain of each blow. Steve tried to push it. He was almost where he wanted to be, and the pain pushed him closer and closer. He didn't want to be allowed to catch his breath, didn't want the fire to cool. He pushed harder with every movement to win another blow, and he was dimly aware that he was saying _please_ again and again on the harsh exhale after every impact.

When he bucked hard enough to snap the strap on his right ankle, it was more or less an accident. At least, he hadn't been thinking of doing it. He wasn't thinking of anything, but the sudden lack of restraint brought him to enough awareness to know that Sam was giving him three seconds to say _sorry_.

Steve breathed in and out and didn't say a word before the beating started, punishing him for breaking the strap, on and on and not stopping while Steve chanted _please please please_. The pain felt sharp and hot enough to take the skin from his bones, to cut him back down to his original size. It was enough pain to lose himself in the blaze of it, and he did, letting his mind go utterly quiet while he did nothing but feel.

He was aware, after a while, of the dull throb of blood pounding in his hands, different from any other pain. After that he noticed that the cane-stripes were all fading into the dull heat of incipient bruises. Only then did it occur to him that Sam wasn't hitting him anymore because Steve had gone limp and was letting his weight hang from his wrists.

He didn't move. He wouldn't, now. Not because he wanted not to be hit, but because he'd broken through into the place where he could wait and let Sam hit him when Sam wanted to. He didn't have to struggle anymore. He didn't have to fight. Sam would take care of him.

"Please," Steve said, letting his head hang.

"I know," Sam said, so close Steve could feel his breath. Steve opened his eyes and looked at Sam, who was looking back at him with a knowing kind of love that was sharp as a blade in its own way. Sam didn't like hurting him, particularly, but he loved this part, when Steve gave himself up and let Sam catch him.

"You're doing so good, baby," Sam said, and he kissed Steve hot and soft and so gentle it hurt more than everything else put together. Steve moaned against his mouth, letting himself be kissed. He was Sam's now. Sam would take care of him.

"Kneel up," Sam finally said. "Hands high."

Steve obeyed, fingers pointed as if he were going to dive into the ceiling. He made only a small sound of protest at the loss when Sam stood up and moved away from him. The kiss on each palm didn't make up for the loss of the straps binding his wrists, but he trusted Sam.

"Forward," Sam said, his hands closing around Steve's wrists to guide them down below the bar. Steve let his body bend forward, his chest coming to rest against the padded bench, just the right height. There weren't many marks high enough on his chest to feel pressure, but those few sparked bright again where they'd been going dull, healing too fast. 

Steve let his forehead fall against the bench, left his arms outstretched where Sam laid them down. His fingers throbbed in a different way as the blood returned to them, and Sam's hand settled warm and soft and painless on the back of his neck.

"You're going to be still for me now," Sam said in his ear.

"Yeah," Steve said. He sounded a little drunk. He felt a little drunk, floating and weighted at the same time, the pain singing through his body, his blood hot in his veins, his cock throbbing heavy between his legs. 

"I'm going to hurt you like you really like, now," Sam said quietly, and Steve felt a new rush of heat flood his body, gratitude and anticipation all at once. 

Steve turned his head just enough to see Sam with the one eye he opened. "Please."

Sam smiled. "First you gotta tell me what you say if you want me to stop."

"Sorry," Steve said. He'd never needed Sam to stop more than the breathing space _sorry_ would win him.

Sam tilted his head. "What's after sorry? What if you really need me to stop?"

"Red," Steve said, without hesitating, even though he'd never said it for real and never expected to. Sam was asking him to give the correct answer and if he didn't Sam wouldn't hurt him anymore. Steve had just gotten to where he could float; he wasn't going to ruin it now by arguing about the right answer.

"Good," Sam said softly. "You're so good for me, you know that?"

His eyes were still on Steve's, but his hands were on Steve's arm now, finding just the right place, because Sam didn't really need any kind of toy or weapon to hurt him.

Sam only needed his fingertips, driving in with exactly enough force at the right spot. Steve's whole body dissolved in a suspended moment of white-out pain, rocketing down his arm and through his body and leaving him empty and breathless on the other side. 

Sam had already moved by the time Steve was aware of anything but the singular pain. His fingers were already tracing toward the next target, on Steve's left thigh, by the time Steve said, "Please."

Sam's lips pressed against a welt on Steve's ass, a bright sharp promise of pain that made Steve catch his breath. Then Sam drove his fingers in again in just the right place, and Steve was lost in another lightning strike of perfect pain. 

Sam moved to his left arm after that, and Steve let out something close to a sob as his fingers drove in, not bothering to hesitate. Steve's right arm was still half-numb, and the prickling hurt as the nerve strike wore off tangled with the fresh, brightly electric pain of his right arm, his left leg somewhere in between.

That left one more waiting, and the toes of Steve's right foot curled in anticipation, waiting for Sam to complete the square. Sam knelt down between Steve's legs, running his hands over Steve's back, scratching lightly to make Steve shiver with that sparkling surface pain. It was a perfect counterpoint to the nerve pain still running through his limbs, and still to come.

"Please," Steve said.

Sam's hands stopped just above Steve's ass, and Sam said, "Please what?"

"Please," Steve said, vaguely aware that the words sounded wet. He couldn't quite catch his breath. "Please hurt me, please--"

He went silent when Sam's hand closed on his unbound right ankle, waiting. When Sam's grip changed he knew what was coming, knew that Sam was going to give him exactly what he wanted. Steve relaxed completely, trusting his weight to the bench and giving himself up to it.

Sam's palm ran over the sole of his foot, warm like a promise. His fingers stabbed down and Steve felt it like a lightning strike, from the ball of his foot to the top of his head. The pain lit him up, set him on fire. He let it burn through him.

It seemed like a long time later when the pain ebbed enough that he could separate his body into different sensations. He couldn't move either of his legs and didn't bother trying to shift his arms. Sam was leaning, hot and heavy, against his back, and he was squirming a little bit to rub against a dozen welts and bruises at once. Steve squirmed right back, pressing his ass against the hard heat of Sam's cock, feeling the red bruised pain wake up everywhere.

Sam put his right hand on Steve's hip, sliding his fingers into the crease of his groin. Steve whimpered a little as his fingertips touched the tendon there, imagining the way another nerve strike would feel. On that spot it would curl him up tight, pain drawing him into his own center. Sam's fingers moved past that vulnerable place to a more vulnerable one, finding Steve's cock. Sam's fingertips slid down the underside of it, following the vein, and Steve couldn't help moving a little at even that light touch. The sensation was magnified, weaving confusingly into the pain that lingered in every other part of his body.

Pleasure was strange and sharp as pain, now, and when Sam's hand closed on his cock it lit Steve up in just the same way. Sam leaned into the bruises on his back and closed his teeth on a welt on the back of Steve's shoulder. Steve couldn't move, couldn't breathe or think, could only feel the stunning bizarre sensation of pleasure washing through him. Sam stroked his cock, and it didn't seem to take any longer than the swing of a whip before he lost his breath to overwhelming feeling. He came in pulses that seemed to empty him from his toes to his fingertips, leaving him completely wrung out under Sam's blanketing weight.

Sam kissed the back of his neck and then moved away, leaving Steve cold, though Sam's hand was on his shoulder, letting him know he wasn't alone. Steve was only aware that his breathing was still bad when Sam said, "Pick your head up for me, baby. Deep breath."

Steve obeyed unthinkingly, and the exhale was undeniably a sob. 

"Yeah," Sam said softly, "I know. That's right."

Sam settled on the bench in front of him, legs splayed out so that Steve knelt between them. He draped Steve's arms over his thighs, and they rested loosely where Sam put them. Sam kept one hand on Steve's face, helping him keep his head up, and Sam wiped his face again and again with something soft and damp, cleaning away sweat and tears. In between he pressed kisses to Steve's forehead, or his flushed-hot cheeks. He let Steve cry, breath catching again and again, while the sensations swamping his body settled down from something entirely overwhelming to something he could float in again.

Steve had to open his eyes eventually, and he blinked through the tears still leaking from his eyes to look up at Sam, who was looking down at him with an expression that made Steve feel flayed to the bone, stripped bare and _seen_. 

"Please," Steve said, turning his face up, and Sam leaned down and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, holding him steady when Steve swayed in his grip. 

"Please," Steve said again when Sam pulled away. His mouth felt empty, wanting. He bit his lip, but that wasn't what he wanted. 

Sam's thumb pressed against his lip, and Steve let his mouth fall open for Sam's touch, letting Sam's thumb push inside. He closed his eyes, closed his mouth and sucked. It wasn't enough but it was something.

"That what you want?" Sam said softly, pushing down against Steve's tongue, almost enough pressure. 

Steve nodded slightly and sucked harder. 

"Come here," Sam said, and his hand on the back of Steve's neck turned Steve's head down, toward Sam's lap. Sam was naked now, and his cock was hard and right there. That was good, that meant Sam felt good, and Steve could make him feel better if Sam let him. Steve could give something back from this perfect dreamy place where Sam had put him, trade some sweetness for all this beautiful pain. Sam's hand was on the back of his neck, not pushing, letting him move at his own pace.

Steve touched his mouth softly to the head of Sam's cock, and the velvety hardness of it was a whole new sensation, beyond pain and pleasure, beyond his own body. Steve licked, and that was new, too, a startling burst of taste when his whole world had been nothing but touch. He licked again and breathed in the smell and taste of sweat and sex and Sam's familiar body running hot. 

Steve closed his eyes as he closed his mouth on Sam's cock. He rested his forehead against Sam's body and did what came naturally, sucking Sam's cock without finesse, filling his mouth with Sam. Sam's hand slid down from his neck to close around Sam's cock, bumping Steve's lips as he jerked himself off into Steve's mouth. His other hand was on Steve's shoulder, wandering from one mark to another to keep the pain of them shivering through Steve's body, keeping him grounded in his own skin. 

Steve sucked and remembered to breathe. The world was nothing but the weight of Sam's cock on his tongue, the taste and smell of him, Sam's body holding him up and Sam's hands working. Sam's hand flattened on his shoulder and Sam's stroking hand bumped harder against his lips, a pleasant soft impact.

"Ready?" Sam said, his voice sounding not quite perfectly calm for the first time.

Steve sucked harder and made an acknowledging noise in his throat. Sam's hand on his shoulder shifted to his head, fingers tightening in his hair, an entirely new sting to accompany Sam's speeding breaths and the faster bump of Sam's knuckle against his lower lip. Sam's cock was jerking in his mouth, pushing in further, and Steve moaned and took it. He kept sucking faithfully until Sam came, spilling over his tongue, coating his mouth. 

Steve swallowed and swallowed and swallowed and breathed in a huge, sharp gasp when Sam's cock slipped from his mouth. Sam moved Steve where he wanted him, letting Steve rest his forehead on Sam's hip instead. Steve breathed like a bellows, the taste of Sam clinging to the back of his tongue, his whole body glowing with pain and satisfaction. Sam was all around him, inside him, and he was Sam's. 

Sam kept one hand in Steve's hair--gentle now, but Steve didn't mind. Sam's other hand was scratching lightly over the line of a welt on Steve's arm, and the last of the nerve pain was only now fading out of his legs. Steve was still floating, even if it didn't hurt so much anymore. He didn't need it to hurt now. He knew where he belonged, and Sam would keep him here.

"Up," Sam said after a while, and Steve pulled himself upright, kneeling with his arms at his sides while Sam moved around him, releasing the straps that held his knees and ankles. Sam crouched, getting his shoulder under Steve's arm, and Steve knew enough to grab the restraint bar with his other hand as he pulled himself upright. Sam waited while he got his balance back and then turned him, steering him to the bed, which was already waiting with covers turned down and the usual array of supplies on the bedside table. 

Steve curled on his left side, and all the bruises and welts down that side brightened, making him wriggle into the mattress. Soft as it was, there wasn't going to be any way to lie tonight that wouldn't hurt. Steve felt right at home, like he was back in his own lumpy bed after too many nights in a swank hotel. 

Sam curled into his back--more marks made themselves felt, and Steve closed his eyes and pressed back into the touch. The hurting was warm and familiar now, making him that much more aware of Sam's body wrapped around his. He was still floating. He knew he was starting to come down, but he could lie here with Sam and enjoy it for a while longer.

There was a word that came after _please_ , the way _red_ came after _sorry_ , and Steve had gotten to the end of asking for more, now. He had everything he wanted, so there was only one thing left to say. 

"Thank you."

Sam kissed a bruise on his shoulder and held him tight.


End file.
